


kiss me under the light of a thousand stars

by estrella30, mrsronweasley



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 21:10:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2596538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsronweasley/pseuds/mrsronweasley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“All right, out with it,” Nick says when Harry stumbles back, hand flitting over his mouth and eyes darting away guiltily. He stares at the ground and kicks the toe of his boot against the pavement. Nick crosses his arms over his chest and glares. “What’s going on with you?”</p>
<p>Harry huffs. “Nothing.”</p>
<p>“Bullshit,” Nick says. </p>
<p>Harry juts his bottom lip out. “Piss off.”</p>
<p>“I’m not going to piss off, because this is not <i>nothing</i>,” Nick says, completely ignoring the way Harry’s trying to deny it. “What’s been going on with you lately, are you <i>trying</i> to get us found out? Like, is this some elaborate scheme of yours that I’m just not privy to?”</p>
<p>“<i>No</i>,” Harry insists. Nick stares him down. Every time Harry tries to look away Nick follows him with his gaze until Harry finally sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “Maybe,” he finally mumbles. “I don’t know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>or - a kind of five times fic that Harry almost gets him and Nick found out in public</p>
            </blockquote>





	kiss me under the light of a thousand stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fiddleyoumust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleyoumust/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY JULIAAAAAAA!!! I love you SO MUCH! You are GREAT and AWESOME and I know you wanted a five times fic of firsts and this is almost slightly kind of that??? hahaha. but it IS nick and harry and it IS happy and schmoopy and them being in love and its NOT angst bc it's your bday and you deserve all the happy, fun things EVER, ESP a fic about harry and nick being in love.
> 
> MRSRONWEASLEY is AMAZING and read this over too many times and gave me ideas and then wrote an entire section so I wouldn't crap out. She is far too wonderful to meeeeeeee. 
> 
> Thanks to ciel_vert for all the help and betaing this! As usual any remaining mistakes are my own.

*

 

The Sunday it happens for the first time, the day starts off normal enough, with Nick sleeping in and Harry puttering around loudly in the kitchen. He’s making enough noise to be cooking for twelve people but probably only putting together coffee and a bowl of cereal like usual. Nick smiles to himself and stretches out, arms up high, feet pointed toward the bottom of the bed. Just when he’s in prime stretch mode Pig leaps up from the floor and lands firmly on his crotch.

“Fuck!” Nick yelps. Pig barks and from down the hall Nick can hear Harry laughing. “It’s not funny,” Nick calls out. “You’ll be sorry when she breaks my dick for good.”

“You got that right,” Harry shouts back. “I’m only in this relationship for your wang.”

Nick groans more and rolls around in agony (all right, it’s possible he’s exaggerating a _little_ ) until Pig whimpers and starts licking at Nick’s face in apology. Nick pats her head and waits until his dick stops throbbing before rolling out of bed and shoving his feet into a pair of slippers, grabbing his glasses and sticking them on his face. 

“It’s lovely how you rushed to my side to check on me, you know,” Nick calls out. He cleans his teeth in the bathroom and spends a minute checking for any grey hairs on his head (he’s not found _too_ many yet but the day is coming when he wakes up with a head full of them, he’s sure). 

When Harry still doesn’t come looking for him Nick sighs and flicks off the bathroom light. Neglected, is what he is. Yesterday’s news. It’s a sad day in Nick’s world. His sighs again as he wanders down the hall. 

Harry is stood outside of Nick’s guest bedroom, leaning one shoulder in the doorway and eating a bowl of Coco Pops. His hair is loose and damp, the neck of one of Nick’s Beyonce shirts stretched out over Harry’s frame. He flicks Nick a glance and a smile as he shovels a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “How’s your willy?” he mumbles around a mouthful of food. 

“Terrible. Broken. Busted.” Nick curls his hand over Harry’s hip and leans into his side. He kisses Harry’s cheek and his lips tickle from the stubble. “You should kiss it and make it better.”

“Hmm.” Harry squints into the distance and keeps eating. “I might do.”

Nick grins. He’s waiting for Harry to put down his sodding bowl of cereal and start with his medicinal blowjob (he’ll play this one up for days, if Harry doesn’t watch out. Nick’s not proud in the slightest) but instead of backing up and heading into the bedroom where he should be going, Harry nods at the guest room and looks at Nick expectantly. 

“You never did get around to painting the guest room like you mentioned wanting to, did you?”

It takes Nick’s brain a second to go from _blowjob coming soon!_ to _let’s talk about your guest room!_ , but he manages it after a moment. 

“Um. Yes? No?” he answers. “Is this a trick question?”

Harry grins and nudges Nick with his elbow. “Twat. And no, I was just thinking it really might be nice to get some paint in here, don’t you think?”

Nick shrugs. “Sure.”

“Excellent,” Harry says, looking pleased as punch. “We can do that today.”

And while that’s not _exactly_ what Nick had on the agenda for the morning he carefully considers his answer because, well, he’d not thought about Harry actually _helping_ to paint the guest room whenever he got around to it, and it might actually be fun. Nick had pretty much figured he’d go and buy paint one day and then start to paint it before realizing he was too lazy to ever finish and calling in a professional to take over for him. Harry doing it with him might be his best option on getting it painted at all.

It’s actually not a half bad idea.

“If I agree to this - this whole...painting thing, do I get my blowjob first?” Nick asks. 

Harry pretends to roll his eyes. “I _suppose_. If I _must_.”

“You must,” Nick says sagely, grabbing the now empty bowl and spoon from Harry’s hands and leaving them on top of the bureau in the guest room. 

“Now come on,” Nick says. “Time to make sure I don’t perish of a broken dick with an unsightly guest room, innit.” Harry laughs but Nick doesn’t let himself get distracted, just tugs Harry down the hall and back to bed.

*

They get to B&Q just around noon and are in the middle of arguing the pros and cons between a dark red (Nick’s choice, so of course it’s better and plus it’s _his bloody house_ ) or a bright sunny yellow (Harry’s choice, because deep inside he’s apparently a thirteen year old girl) when they’re cautiously approached by a fan wielding a copy of some glossy teen mag and a black felt pen.

“Um, hello,” she says quietly. Harry turns and beams at her, his smile so bright she looks a little faint for a second. Her mum is standing a few feet away and Nick tries to catch her eye and share a knowing glance about the girl mooning over Harry, but the mum isn’t looking anywhere near Nick, too busy mooning over Harry herself. 

Nick sighs. Sometimes his life is so hard.

“Hi, Grimmy,” the girl says softly. Harry’s already standing with his arm around her in the middle of the paint aisle as if they’re long lost friends. 

“This is Jessica,” Harry says proudly. He’s snapping his gum and grinning, thumb brushing over the girls sleeve. She beams and giggles, her face red as a tomato. 

Nick smiles back and shakes her hand. 

“Hiya, Jessica. You all right?”

Jessica nods and glances up at Harry quickly. Harry waves the mum over and then Nick as well. “Jessica asked for a picture of the both of us,” Harry says to Nick. “That alright with you?”

“It is, yeah. Of course,” Nick answers. It’s a little odd but not completely out of the ordinary. Harry’s far more famous than Nick, obviously, but Nick is just a bit famous and everyone knows he’s a mate of Harry’s. It’s not the first time someone’s asked to be in a picture with the both of them, not in the slightest. 

The mum fiddles with the camera on her mobile for a second and Jessica steps in front of Harry and Nick so they’re behind her on either side. Harry leans in to tilt his head toward Nick’s, and then he, well. He grabs Nick around the waist and tugs him so he’s nearly pressed all against him, their feet kicking against each other’s on the floor. They’re so close the edge of Harry’s shiny purple headscarf is tickling Nick’s cheek, and this is just...this is close. This is _too_ close. They don’t do this. 

No one else seems to notice though, so Nick tries to just go with it. Jessica is giggling in front of them and Nick moves to angle his head away even the smallest amount but he’s too late; Harry keeps his arm around Nick tight and it’s exactly then that the camera flash goes off. 

“What the…” Nick mumbles under his breath, because that was a bit...odd. 

They finish up quickly after that, Harry giving hugs and signing the girls magazine while her mum shakes both of their hands before they walk away. Nick waits to see if Harry had thought there was anything different about the way he’d pulled Nick so close for the picture, but Harry merely shakes his head and calm as anything says, “So yeah, I just think the yellow would be brighter and since that room is such a small space we should--”

“Harry,” Nick interrupts. Harry looks at Nick and blinks innocently. “Harry what _was_ that?”

Harry cocks his head to the side. “What was what?” he says. He sounds genuinely curious. 

“The picture,” Nick clarifies. Harry squints at him. “With the girl.”

“Ah, yeah. She was sweet, wasn’t she?” Harry hums happily. “Always do like a polite fan.”

“No, no, I mean…” Nick trails off and scratches the back of his neck. Harry is still staring at him like everything is perfectly normal and Nick’s starting to think that maybe _he’s_ the one who’s acting strange. The picture was probably fine. It seemed a bit close but Nick’s most likely exaggerating everything in his head.

“Nothing, I guess,” Nick says. He shakes his head and tries to concentrate on more important things, like how Harry’s still standing by this sodding bright yellow paint and how Nick is most likely going to have to get used to the idea of it all over his guest room because he’s always been total crap at telling Harry no. 

“Soooooo,” Harry says, face beaming and cheeks dimpling as he gives Nick his most convincing smile. “How about this yellow?”

*

Nick doesn’t think anything about the girl or the picture for days. It never shows up online anywhere that Nick notices, and neither he nor Harry bring it up again. It winds up being one of those things that Nick decides he definitely exaggerated in his head. Christ knows it isn’t the first molehill Nick’s made into a mountain in his life. 

Until it happens a second time. 

They’re out to dinner and Harry is making the most obscene sounds over some melted cheese crostini plate he’s ordered and Nick’s starting to get a bit cross. It’s only the starter course for Christ’s sake. He knew his grilled asparagus was going to leave a lot to be desired but he never thought it would be _this_ bad.

“All right, Styles,” Nick says and tosses his napkin onto the table. He wiggles his fingers at Harry’s plate and motions toward himself. “Stop hogging all the good stuff and give us a taste, yeah?”

Harry nods, still with a mouthful of food, and picks up one of the dark toasted slivers of bread. Nick holds his hand out and leans over so Harry can hand it to him, but then Harry just nudges forward, his chair shifting under the table as he puts the crostini to Nick’s mouth and feeds it to him in the middle of the crowded fucking restaurant at half eight on a Friday night.

Nick chews it on reflex only. He’s quite lucky he doesn’t actually _choke_.

Harry doesn’t do anything, doesn’t move an inch. He stays just sitting there smiling like a bloody fool, chewing his own food and pressing his fingertips to Nicks mouth. In a situation where they weren’t surrounded by so many strangers Nick would quite like to take a nibble out of a few of those fingers. He’s done so a million times in the past, but never like this. Never so open and out there and public. 

Nick blinks and swallows. He feels like he’s gone mad, like he’s the only one who thinks that something out of the ordinary is going on because Harry just leans back into his seat, wiping his mouth with his napkin when he’s done and says, “‘S’good, yeah?”

“Harry, what are you doing?” Nick hisses. He looks around the restaurant trying to be as inconspicuous as he can. It’s possible the way he can feel his eyes bulging and his jaw hanging open is giving him away, not that he can figure out how to do anything to change it. Thankfully they’re sat in the back corner of the restaurant and no one seems to be paying them any attention. 

Harry blinks and goes back to his starter. His hair is loose and he drops his head so it covers half of his face. “Sharing my food with you like you asked for.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean - I mean, I didn’t think--” Nick flaps his hand around trying to signal out to Harry things like _what the HELL??_ and _why are you doing this in front of all these people_?? Harry either doesn’t understand the gestures or is pretending to ignore him. Lovely. “Harry, you _fed_ it to me.”

Harry shrugs looking completely non-plussed. Nick can see the silver chains glinting around Harry’s neck since his shirt is made of some kind of ridiculous sheer gold material and it’s also unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Nick wants to kiss him and throttle him in equal measure. 

“Whatever,” Harry says, and what? Maybe it’s not Nick who’s going crazy, but Harry. That seems to be the only answer. 

Nick leans forward to try and figure out what the bloody hell Harry is playing at, but just then their server comes over with the main courses and Harry turns his attention away from Nick, beaming up at the steaming plates of food being placed on their table. 

*

Nick lets it go. Again. After all, it was just a starter and Nick’s sure loads of people erotically feed each other starters in totally platonic ways, right? It’s nothing that he’s ever seen personally but that doesn’t mean it’s never happened. He’s at least hoping that anyone who might have seen them at dinner has seen it before and wasn’t busy taking secret pictures of them that they’re in the process of selling to the Daily Mail. 

He’s standing at his kitchen counter before work on a Tuesday morning, staring at the coffee pot and silently willing it to percolate faster when he presses the button to power on his mobile. It takes a second for the screen to light up, but when it does the mobile starts buzzing and buzzing and buzzing and it never seems to stop. Pig whines low from where she’s curled up at Nick’s feet and Nick reaches down to scratch behind her ears and she falls back to sleep.

At first it’s a bit funny; Nick would think the mobile’s got busted or that the text alert is stuck somehow, but then he glances at the screen and sees just how many texts he has all saying variations of the same thing. His eyes focus in on a few of them and then his heart starts pounding, tripping up quick in his chest. 

_Is Harry with you?_ Alexa had sent, followed by _Everything all right over there, mate?_ from Pixie and just a string of question marks from Fincham and Ian. Henry sent the laughing face emoji about forty times but the most troubling text of them all was from Aimee. It was in all capital letters and said only, _WHAT. THE. FUCK._ with a link.

Nick sucks in a deep breath, blows it out and clicks the link. 

He sees right away that it’s a link to Harry’s Instagram, but the picture itself isn’t loading right away. Whatever the picture is it’s already got fifty-two thousand likes, and is captioned _sleepstagram_ and Nick thinks that maybe it’s nothing, really. Maybe it’s not as bad as all of his friends seem to be making it out to be. Maybe--

The picture clicks in then, the edges going sharp and clear and Nick nearly drops his mobile in the sink. Because it’s a picture of him sleeping from the night before. He can tell because the sleeve of the red shirt he’d been wearing to dinner is clear in the top half of the picture where it’s balled up against one of Nick’s pillows. 

That’s already a problem in itself. But also the picture of Nick is just...he’s sleeping in his bed with a bare chest and the necklace Harry had given him for his birthday glittering in the low light of the bedroom. There’s nothing _wrong_ with the picture. It’s not as if you can _see_ anything people shouldn’t be seeing. It’s just--

It’s just intimate. _Too_ intimate. It’s dusky dark in the room and Nick is sleeping and naked in his bed. From the angle of the picture it’s clear that Harry was either _with_ him in bed, or close enough that you can see the tiny anchor dangling off the chain around his throat and it’s...it’s a lot, is all. 

Nick’s mobile buzzes again but this time the text is from Harry and it’s new. 

_Morrrrrrrning. Sorry I had to skip out early last night, early interview today with the lads_

And that’s odd too, considering how early Nick has to get up for work. If Harry and his lot aren’t doing an interview with Nick himself, there’s no reason for Harry to have left Nick’s house in the middle of the night to be anywhere at half five in the morning. 

Nick rubs a hand over his mouth. The picture is still there, staring at him from the shiny screen and he clicks out of it, trying to figure out what he wants to say to Harry about it if anything at all. 

_That’s fine_ , Nick sends. He can see that Harry’s already responding so before he can answer him Nick writes _I saw the picture you posted last night_

The text bubbles from Harry’s end stop immediately. Nick waits a moment for Harry to say something but he’s eerily silent. 

_Harry_ Nick sends but then Harry interrupts with _Don’t say anything_ and Nick stops typing.

_Don’t be upset. It’s just a picture of you sleeping. Don’t make it into a thing_

Nick barks out a laugh loud enough that Pig grumbles in her sleep and nips at Nick’s toes. His fingers are shaking when he types back, because this is big. This is going to be _huge_. This isn’t something they can just gloss over. Harry has to know that. 

_I know_ Harry answers when Nick tells him exactly that. Nick wonders if he should call Harry to try and talk about all of this, but Harry seems to be saying more through his texts than he does when Nick questions him about how odd he’s been behaving lately so maybe he’ll just leave it for now. 

_It doesn’t have to be a big deal though. You posted a picture of us that one time and no one flipped_

Nick feels his face scrunch up as he tries to remember what picture Harry’s talking about. _Which picture_

_The one with Thurston on the couch when we were watching Bake Off_ and for fucks sake, that doesn’t _count_.

_That wasn’t like this_ Nick says. _That was just our legs and no faces. It wasn’t for sure_

Harry starts to type something but then stops. Nick’s still standing at the counter and he glances up at the clock, groaning out loud when he realizes he’s been talking to Harry for so long he’s barely got time to suck down a cup of coffee and throw some clothes on before he’s late for work. He’s about to tell Harry he’s got to go and that he’ll call him after the show and talk to him then when a text comes in, something about the simpleness of the words making Nick’s breath get caught up in his chest. 

_It was sure for me._ Harry sends, followed closely with _I was sure about it._

Nick doesn’t know what to say. 

_Listen don’t flip it’s just a nice picture. I have to go now but I’ll ring you later. Love you_ Harry ends his message with a string of hearts and then he’s gone and Nick’s still not figured out what to say. 

He flips the mobile over in his hand a few times, but in the end all he can send is _Love you too_ because it’s true, he really does. Today is going to be insane on the show and he’s probably going to have to talk about this ridiculous picture of him sleeping more than he’s ever talked about anything before in his life, but it’s fine. Whatever happens Nick can deal with it if it’s for Harry. 

*

The show that morning isn’t as bad as Nick expected and as long as he stays out of his mentions on Twitter and doesn’t search for anything on Tumblr everything is close to normal. He doesn’t see Harry for a few days and by the time he does the picture is such old news that neither of them bring it up. It’s probably for the best, Nick figures, because Harry was right: it _is_ a nice picture and there’s no reason to go making a big deal about something that was clearly just a photo, nothing more. 

 

*

Until something happens a _fourth_ time and this time Nick can’t chalk it up to anything other than Harry being _deliberately insane_.

“ _Harry_.” Nick shoves Harry back and darts his eyes around quickly. They’re outside late on a Saturday night queueing for a cab and Harry had just leaned over and slipped his hand into Nick’s before pushing up on his toes and kissing Nick square on the mouth. Just - just completely unprovoked, right here, in front of anyone who’d happened to be looking anywhere near their direction. (Thankfully the amount of people around them was zero, Nick’s fairly sure. Either that or they’ve all fainted dead away.)

“All right, out with it,” Nick says when Harry stumbles back, hand flitting over his mouth and eyes darting away guiltily. He stares at the ground and kicks the toe of his boot against the pavement. Nick crosses his arms over his chest and glares. “What’s going on with you?”

Harry huffs. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Nick says. 

Harry juts his bottom lip out. “Piss off.”

“I’m not going to piss off, because this is not _nothing_ ,” Nick says, completely ignoring the way Harry’s trying to deny it. “What’s been going on with you lately, are you _trying_ to get us found out? Like, is this some elaborate scheme of yours that I’m just not privy to?”

“ _No_ ,” Harry insists. Nick stares him down. Every time Harry tries to look away Nick follows him with his gaze until Harry finally sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “Maybe,” he finally mumbles. “I don’t know.”

Nick closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s got a headache so bad his skull feels like it’s splitting open. “Harry, please. What’s going on?”

Harry sighs and rubs the heels of hands over his eyes. He looks disappointed. Sad, almost. Nick would feel bad for him if he had any idea why Harry’s been acting the way he’s been lately. “I don’t know,” Harry says quietly. “I just. Would it be so bad, really?” Nick stares at Harry silently. “Like, if people found out?”

Nick opens his mouth but he has no idea what he’s going to say. _Yes? No? Have you lost your mind?_ None of them seem to quite encompass the general _what the fuck_ feelings he’s having, and now they’re attracting a bit of a crowd. Nothing terrible, just a few ladies standing a little closer than Nick had thought they were and another by herself with her mobile out. 

“Not here,” Nick says, taking Harry’s elbow and guiding him to the cab that’s just pulled up. “Let’s go back to mine and we’ll talk.”

*

The ride back to Nick’s flat is awkwardly quiet, the only sounds the traffic rushing outside the windows and the staticy feed of the radio station the cabbie is listening to. Harry’s sat in the corner chewing on the side of his thumb and staring out the window. 

By the time the cab pulls up in front of his flat Nick feels oddly guilty, though he’s fairly sure he’s got nothing to feel guilty _about_. He hands over the fare and follows Harry up the walk, waiting behind him when Harry fiddles with his key and opens the door. 

Pig is sleeping and they move quietly as not to wake her. Nick takes off his coat and hangs his keys on the hook by the door, slipping his boots off and leaving them on the mat Harry had picked up the last time he was out shopping. It’s bright pink and green and says GET OUT with smiling faces and flowers all around it. Nick had thought it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen when Harry showed it to him, then put it right by the front door so every single person who steps into his flat has to see it too. 

Looking at it now has Nick’s throat going tight and he’s got no earthly idea why. 

“Harry,” he says, voice thick and rough. 

“No, wait,” Harry says. He comes over and takes Nick’s hand in his, the silver of his rings cool against Nick’s skin. Nick looks at Harry’s face, into his bright green eyes and the sad little smile he’s giving Nick, and when Harry tugs on Nick’s hand Nick follows him to the sofa and sits down close enough to him that their thighs brush. 

Harry’s got Nick’s hand in his lap and he’s playing with Nick’s fingers, tracing over the inside of his hand with his thumb. Harry’s skin is warm. He lifts Nick’s hand to his mouth and kisses the inside of his palm, and Nick is suddenly frantically worried that something awful is about to happen. 

“Are you breaking up with me?” he blurts out. 

Harry drops his hand and stares at Nick with wide eyes. “What?”

“All of this...this moping around and acting weird,” Nick says. His stomach is fluttering, hands gone shaky and damp. He didn’t _think_ that’s what was going on, but now that the idea is in his head he can’t seem to shake it. “You’ve been doing odd things for weeks, Harry, and I didn’t think that’s what it was, but if it _is_ and you--”

“Oh my god, you’re _actually insane_ ,” Harry says. He looks a bit less startled now and his voice is shaking with laughter. “A complete nutter.”

Nick stops talking and quickly closes his mouth. Harry’s gone positively red in the face, giggling helplessly and Nick glares. Whatever is happening this reaction is _clearly_ uncalled for. 

“You’re a twat,” Nick huffs. 

Harry nods, giggling just a bit more before he finally trails off and goes quiet. He sighs and takes Nick’s hand back, threading their fingers together. “Maybe I am at that,” he muses. 

“Harry, what--”

“I’m not trying to leave you, you bloody idiot,” Harry says firmly. He blows out a breath and waits until Nick is looking at him to say, “I’m trying to do the opposite, actually.”

Nick doesn’t get it. He feels his nose crinkle as he tries to parse out what Harry’s saying. What exactly is the opposite of trying to leave somebody? “You’re trying to stay with me?” Nick guesses.

“Yeah, but like,” Harry hedges. He rolls his shoulder and says, “when we’re out, I mean. I want to be with you when we’re out.”

It takes Nick a long, quiet moment of Harry watching him - _really_ watching him - before he fully appreciates the weight of what Harry’s saying. Nick realizes they’re just words, but the longer they sit out there floating in the air between them, the more important they become. 

Harry wants to be with Nick. When they’re out. In public. 

Nick doesn’t know what to say. 

“Harry--”

“No, wait, don’t just say no,” Harry says quickly. He turns around so he’s sitting sideways on the sofa, his knee bent and pressing against Nick’s thigh. He’s still got Nick’s hand, and he’s watching Nick so seriously Nick feels guilty every time he tries to look away. 

“No,” Nick says, trying to joke a bit to lighten the mood. 

Harry smiles a little and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. 

“Idiot,” Harry says quietly. 

Nick sighs. He rubs his thumb over Harry’s hand and when Harry leans in to kiss him Nick kisses him back quick and firm. “Where’s this all coming from, Haz?”

“Dunno,” Harry says around a shrug. He pulls his hand away and fiddles with the bottom of his t-shirt, fingers pulling idly on a loose string. “I just feel like sometimes it’s really crap, you know?” Nick looks at him and raises an eyebrow. “Like, we’ve been together for so long but everyone thinks we’re just mates.”

“Yeah, but--”

“I know, I know,” Harry says, flapping his hand around. “There’s the band and the papers and blah blah blah.” Nick smiles a bit at that, but the next time when Harry sighs he sounds defeated almost. “Sometimes though, I think it’d really be worth it, you know?” 

He looks up at Nick and blinks, eyes wide and shining green. Most of the time Nick doesn’t even remember the gap in their ages because he’s so ridiculously immature himself and Harry mostly acts like an eighty year old man trapped inside a popstar’s body, but it’s times like this when he’s faced with Harry’s blind idealism that Nick remembers how much older he is, and how much more he’s gone through. 

“Not everything works out the way we want it to, love,” Nick says gently. Harry drops his eyes and looks down at his hands in his lap. Nick puts his hand on Harry’s waist and pulls Harry in closer to him, kissing the side of his hair. “People can be really shitty about things like this.”

Harry shrugs against him. Nick can hear him sniffle and his heart breaks. “I know,” Harry says quietly. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then almost whispers, “I don’t want to make a big statement or take an article out in The Sun or anything, I just want to...I want to go to dinner with you and I want to sit next to you and I want it to look like we’re there together, you know?” He looks up at Nick and his eyes are shiny and damp. “I want to hold your hand,” Harry says quietly. “I want to kiss you if we feel like it. Would that be so bad?”

Nick’s heart is so full with how much he loves this boy, with how much he would do literally anything for him that Harry wants, that he can’t even answer. Nothing he could say would make things any different or easier, and Harry knows that as well as Nick does. Instead of saying anything Nick cups his hands over Harry’s face and tilts his head, kissing him slowly and Harry kisses him back, hands sliding over Nick’s thighs and up his chest, fingers curling tightly over Nick’s shoulders. 

“We’ll worry about it later, popstar,” Nick says. “Now I think you should come to bed.” He stands and pulls Harry up after him, and Harry follows as Nick leads him down the hall. 

*

As soon as they get to Nick’s bedroom Harry’s kissing him, pulling Nick’s shirt up and off and tossing it on the floor. Nick closes the door behind them in case Pig wakes up and decides to come looking for them and in the time it takes him to get the door shut Harry’s already taken off his shirt and is stripping out of his jeans and pants. He tugs on Nick’s belt and presses his mouth against Nick’s throat, wet and hot. 

“Off, get these off,” Harry mumbles. Nick barely even has a chance to reach for his belt when Harry heads him off, fumbling with the buckle and button and everything else that's apparently standing between him and Nick's dick.

Nick is more than happy to let him take the lead. He's still just a bit off-kilter from Harry's earlier declarations. From Harry wanting him. In public.

"C'mon," Harry urges at the same time as he pushes Nick towards the bed. "Want you, come on."

Nick finally gets with the program, wraps his arms around Harry, pulls him closer. When Harry succeeds in undoing all of the knobs and zips, Nick aids him by managing to step out of his own jeans and pants, until he's left in a t-shirt, which is actually the least sexy he's ever felt in his whole life. He lets Harry go enough to pull the shirt over his head.

"Yeah," Harry grins and pushes Nick down. "That's what I'm talking about."

Nick grins back and scoots back, until he's got one knee up on the bed. He's already hard. Harry gets there the next second himself.

"Fuck, you're hot," Harry says, sort of echoing what's happening down below. "Wanna fuck you tonight. Can I?"

It's quiet and dark in the room, but not so dark that Nick misses the desperation on Harry's face, in the sound of his low voice. He was holding his ground pretty well on perhaps not coming out all of a sudden with no warning earlier, but now – now he just isn't sure he can resist a desperate Harry, nor does he really want to.

He whines, instead, letting his head fall back. He wants it so bad, wants _him_ so bad.

"Yeah," Harry whispers, and then his hands are all over Nick, shifting him this way and that so Nick winds up lying the way he's supposed to on a bed, not all perpendicular and against bed nature. Harry, Nick knows, can do it every which way in any position and be happy, but when Nick gets fucked, he prefers to be as comfortable as possible. Call him a princess, but he's delicate. He doesn't like being distracted by his head hanging off the bed or something. Too many close calls in his life.

He's hard. He's so, so hard and Harry is taking his sweet time with rummaging for lube. "C'mon, love," Nick whines. "Gonna start without you soon."

"Fuck no." Harry's on him in an instant. He's hoarse, and Nick feels it in his own throat, want all built up and unable to get out. How did they get here, from zero to sixty, all revved up and ready to go?

"C'mon, then," Nick urges, then spreads his legs, traps Harry's slim hips with his knees. His hands are busy skittering all up and down Harry's back, lovely and smooth and strong beneath the surface. Nick has contemplated filming them from time to time, just to see what Harry looks like when he's fucking him. 

It's an absurd idea, of course, never to be allowed – if he's scared about people seeing them too close in a fan photo, then accidentally getting their actual sex tape leaked would have him running straight to Antarctica never to be seen again – but he so wishes they could, sometimes. Maybe he'll put a mirror on the ceiling, instead. Like Hugh Hefner or something.

"You with me?" Harry's voice startles Nick out of his reverie, and Harry's breath is closer now, tickling his lips. He's half-smiling at him, but his eyebrows are drawn. "Y'alright?" Harry gently runs a hand through Nick's hair. Nick thinks it's shaking.

"Sorry, sorry, yeah – just –"

"Went somewhere, did you?" Harry doesn't sound upset about it, just curious.

"No, I was here," Nick tells him, and he's not lying. He's always here, when it's Harry. "You gonna fuck me or what?"

Harry licks his lips and grins, then pushes himself up. He's seated between Nick's thighs, and his dick is so lovely and hard. Nick just wants him so much. "If you're asking."

Nick shoves his hips down until he nudges Harry. He doesn't answer, though.

Harry takes it as one, anyway. He also takes his duties very seriously, as always. And as always, he's so methodical and slow about it, Nick feels every second that Harry preps his own fingers in his very bones. The moment before Harry enters him with a single finger seems to last forever.

Nick can't help gasping and shifting on the bed. He grabs a sheet in one hand and manages to say, "Not enough, babe, c-can go faster."

He doesn't see Harry's reaction, his eyes are shut tight, but he feels the bluntness of another finger the next moment. Still not enough, but fuck, it's better. Nick bears down, taking in long, deep breaths. It's weird how something so good can feel like too much and not enough, and so strange, too. It all sort of gets tangled up together and he wants more and he sort of wants it to stop, but not really, not at all. He can never really get it all sorted out in his head, only that he supposes that's love, innit? This scrambled ball of whatever, beating hard inside his chest.

"Oh God, more," he says despite himself. "Just fuck me already, _please_."

Harry whines in response, then slips out his fingers. "You sure?" he asks, so unnecessary, really – when has Nick ever asked him to fuck him when he isn't sure, he's always sure, for fuck's sake.

Nick just squeezes Harry's hips hard with his knees, hopes it hurts, just a bit. That'll teach him to question Nick's requests. Harry huffs out a laugh and for one moment, he wiggles inside Nick's thighs. Like he'd liked it. Nick bites his lip, then does it again. Harry gasps and falls slightly forward. "Twat," he giggles.

"Twat you love," Nick says.

"Twat I love," Harry agrees. For a moment, Nick forgets that he's desperate for a fuck and leans in until Harry's in kissing range. He opens up for him instantly, so wet and good, and they kiss for so long, it feels like hours. Days, maybe. When they pull apart, Nick notices Harry has managed to tangle their fingers together. At least Nick is not alone in this. His heart speeds up. "Stop distracting me now," Harry says, breaking the moment and pouting. "Still not fucked you yet."

"And whose fault is that." Nick isn't actually sure what words are coming out of his mouth, it's like his brain's been split in two – one part is automatic insults, another part liquefied into ridiculous love that's about to ooze out of all of his pores at once. Jesus Christ. What has this boy reduced him to?

Harry fumbles a bit, getting himself situated. Nick just watches him, lifting his own hips automatically when Harry shoves a pillow underneath him. Harry's tattoos are blobs of black in the dark, his arms and shoulders and abs are shifting shadows. When he finally lines himself up and pushes in, Nick can't even breathe right. Maybe – possibly – at all.

Harry gasps above him, says something that Nick can't make out. He's too far gone. Harry's so fucking big, his fat hard cock so fucking _good_ inside him. Nick feels himself opening up for him with each thrust, that feeling of being filled up overriding any discomfort, as it always does for him. The zing of pleasure every time Harry moves. The press of Harry's abs against Nick's dick, the tangle of his fingers with Nick's own.

"Oh, fuck." Harry's voice is barely audible, but he's so close to Nick's ear, Nick hears it all the same. "God, I love fucking you, d'you know that…"

Nick tunnels his fingers through Harry's ridiculously long curls and pulls. "Might have got an inkling, yeah."

"Love fucking you, love feeling your cock right there against my skin." It's like Harry didn't even hear him, he just keeps talking without breaking stride. "Love how you feel around my dick, too. God, so hard for you."

Nick gives up on trying to respond. He can't, he's too busy being fucked and sweet-talked into oblivion. Harry's voice in his ear like that is exquisite torture, and Nick turns his face away just so he can _breathe_ , God, he cannot _breathe._ Harry, though, takes it as his cue to keep saying the filthiest, silliest things. Nick squeezes his eyes shut and goes with it. Harry keeps fucking him, harder and harder each time.

"Wish I could kiss you all the time," he says, when Nick tunes back in. "Wish I could – wish I could show you off to the world for who you are, let them, let them see, see you're – my, you're - mine."

Nick's heart jumps. He licks his lips, holds on harder. "Is that what I am –"

"Yeah," Harry grunts and gives a harder thrust. Nick tosses his head back, feels like he's gonna fall apart. He's so close, it's a wonder he's managed to hold off even this long, but it's inevitable now. He clings to Harry, feels the rush of it inside his belly, fluttering through his veins, breaking through his ribs, and then he's coming, shuddering and gasping. Everything is so fucking - _everything_ , it's _everything_. He thinks he can hear himself whining as he trembles. When he comes down, he feels Harry's skin and bones under his teeth. Fuck, Nick bit his shoulder again.

"Shit, I'm – sorry, sorry," he gasps, then kisses the spot better.

"No, it's - _fuck_ -"

_Oh_. Nick feels it as if on delay, Harry's sudden jerk and shudder, the tension revved up in his body, then released all at once. They barebacked it, as they have been doing lately, and Nick still doesn't know how he doesn't find it absolutely gross, to feel Harry coming inside him. But he doesn't. He fucking loves it. Always, always.

They're slick and filthy and panting together, and Nick feels it in his bones.

Harry takes his sweet time pulling out. He kisses Nick's eyelids, his cheekbones, breathes hard against his neck. He's heavy now, letting Nick take the brunt of his own weight, but it's almost comforting. Comforting until it's way too uncomfortable and Nick needs to fucking breathe, for real this time.

"C'mon," he urges, pushing Harry off of him. "If you want a proper cuddle, get out of me and bring us a flannel, okay?"

Harry makes an annoyed noise, but does as asked, even as he sighs through it. He even cleans Nick up, just as thoroughly as he went about fucking him. Nick has always loved that crease between Harry's eyebrows, even when he couldn't tell if Harry was really frowning or just pretending to. They're both of them a mess.

Harry elbows him twice in the stomach as they're arranging themselves to go to sleep, but Nick doesn't even mind. Harry is hot as a furnace at his back, and Nick doesn't mind that, either.

Harry snores sometimes, and he pushes Nick's patience to the limit at other times, and he leaves him for stretches at a time. Nick doesn't mind. Nick never, ever minds.

*

Nick wakes in the middle of the night achy and sore and vaguely needing a wee. He flops around trying to get comfortable and ignore it for a bit longer, but the more he moves around the more he realizes that he’s alone in the bed, the sheets rucked up next to him and the pillows all shoved against the headboard. 

There’s a light on in the hall, and the bedroom door is pulled almost all the way closed with just an inch or so of light spilling into the room. Nick gets up and slips his glasses on figuring that he might as well get up now and use the bathroom if he needs to look around and find Harry anyway. Harry’s sleep schedule is always off and there’s been plenty of times Nick’s woken up without him there only to find him eating a snack or playing around on his phone in the middle of the night. 

Nick takes a few quiet steps down the hall, head tilted to see if he can hear where Harry is. The kitchen light is off and so are the lights in the living room, but Nick hears Harry’s voice quiet and hushed and he shuffles down until he sees Harry tucked up in the big armchair facing out the back door and into the garden. 

“Yeah, I know,” Harry says softly. Nick’s confused as to what Harry’s talking about until he realizes Harry’s not talking to Nick at all. He’s on the phone with someone and his voice is hushed. Nick doesn’t think Harry’s got any idea Nick is standing outside the room at all. 

Nick opens his mouth to try and get Harry’s attention, but then Harry says, “We talked about it tonight a bit actually, and he just...I dunno, Gem. I don’t think he wants to.”

Nick stops. He stops trying to talk, stops thinking, stops breathing it feels like. He realizes he should let Harry know he’s standing here and that he can hear him, but part of Nick doesn’t want to interrupt Harry when he’s on the phone with his sister and talking about something so quietly in the middle of the night. Nick knows he’s intruding, but he can’t seem to make himself walk away either. 

Harry nods his head at something Gemma says and runs his fingers through his hair, shoving it up and off his face. “No, I know, it would be a lot. I just…” Harry trails off. Nick can see his shoulder move up in a shrug. “I just thought it’d be nice, you know? To stop hiding everything. ‘S’fine though. Maybe some other time.”

Nick’s heart feels like it’s splitting in two. He never thought Harry was this concerned about the two of them having to hide everything. He figured that Harry was happy with the way things were; that he could be with Nick and still have his life on the road and in the band with the lads and not have to answer a billion questions all the time about dating a bloke or what he and Nick did in their spare time. Nick just, he didn’t think it mattered this much to Harry. To realize now that it does is breaking Nick’s heart. 

Nick’s stood there so long he doesn’t realize that Harry’s hung up, or that he’s got his head turned around to look at Nick where he’s frozen himself in the doorway, a smirky grin curved over his face. 

“You know you’re really the worst at sneaking up on someone,” Harry says, voice falsely light. 

Nick shakes his head. He tries to deny it, maybe make something up about how he was just passing and didn’t hear anything, but Harry stands up then, stretching his arms over his head and Nick wants nothing more than to make Harry happy. He wants to make Harry happy forever, it seems like.

“Harry, I’m sorry--”

“No, don’t,” Harry says quickly. “I’m not mad that you heard what I was saying to Gem or that we talked before and you don’t…” Harry trails off, smiling a bit and dropping his eyes. Nick walks over and touches Harry’s face, pushes the hair back from his forehead and Harry looks up and kisses Nick quickly on the mouth. 

“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, all right?” Harry says. “I’m not cross and I’m not pressuring you. Just…” He bites his lip and slips an arm around Nick’s waist. Nick feels his pulse racing, his hands gone damp where they’re settled on the back of Harry’s neck. “If you ever do decide that you want to, I’m ready,” Harry says. His voice is even and sure. Nick feels like he wants to cry and shout in happiness and be sick all at once. 

He manages not to do any of those things. Instead he tips his head and kisses Harry. “All right, popstar,” Nick whispers and Harry smiles. 

*

The Sunday it happens for the first time, the day starts off normal enough, with Nick sleeping in and Harry puttering around loudly in the kitchen. He’s making enough noise to be cooking for twelve people but probably only putting together coffee and a bowl of cereal, and Nick smiles because he wants to wake up to this every morning, every day, for as long as Harry wants to be with him. He thinks that that should scare him and maybe at another time realizing it _would_ have scared him, but today it’s nothing more than a quiet certainty. A, _yes. This. I want this_ feeling settling deep in his bones. 

Nick hears Harry talking quietly to Pig, her answering little barks and snuffles, and he gets up and throws some clothes on, only stopping long enough to clean his teeth in the bathroom and grab a jacket from the hook in the hall. Harry’s in the kitchen dressed in a ratty Nirvana t-shirt and a pair of Nick’s oldest trackies, but it’s good, Nick thinks. It’s fine for what he needs to do.

“Morning,” Nick says, smiling brightly. Harry looks up from where he’s crouched on the floor scratching Pig’s belly and grins wide and happy. 

“Morning.”

“Want to take her for a walk?” Nick asks. He’s so anxious he thinks he might be sick. His stomach is trembling and his hands are shaking so badly he stuffs them into the pockets of his jeans afraid Harry will notice and ask him what’s wrong. 

Nick thinks he’d sound insane if he had to answer that question. Something about saying, _nothing’s wrong, actually everything’s one billion percent right_ making his heart trip so, so fast in his chest. 

“Sure,” Harry says easily. “Actually, hang on. I got her that new squishy toy at the shops the other day, lemme just grab it.”

Nick nods and bounces from foot to foot while Pig jumps around happily, licking Nick’s hands and face when he finally finds her lead and bends down to attach it to her collar. He scratches her behind the ears, gives her a bunch of kisses all over her face and by the time Harry comes back wearing his jacket and with Pig’s new toy in his hand Nick is more than ready to go. 

The morning is bright and sunny, the air just a bit cold. Nick holds Pig’s lead in one hand and lets Harry talk all the way to the park, his voice slow and soothing and calming Nick’s nerves without him even realizing he’s doing it. Harry’s cheeks are flushed pink from the fresh air, and his eyes are sparkling green. He looks at Nick and laughs at the end of his story, face shining bright and happy. 

Nick loves him so much he can barely breathe. 

There are a few people at the park already. It’s still a bit early, but Nick sees a young couple with a big lab type of dog and a few kids that look to be uni students with a bunch of books where they’re sat under the tree. There’s a family with a pram by the lake and an older man with a set of headphones on, and it’s not a special day, it’s not a holiday, there’s nothing important about the date or the time or the place that they are. 

It’s just a day, and Nick’s with Harry, and when they stop walking he reaches down and takes Harry’s hand. 

Harry goes to pull back on instinct, but Nick was expecting that and he just holds tighter, curling their fingers together and letting go of Pig’s lead so she can run off and find another dog to play with. Harry looks down at their hands and then looks up at Nick. His eyes are wide and hopeful, his lips pressed together tight. 

“Hiya,” Nick says softly. His voice is shaking. 

Harry squeezes his fingers tighter and takes a step in. He’s close enough that Nick can feel the heat from his body. He can smell Harry’s cologne and the product he uses in his hair. Harry looks down again almost shyly, then looks up and bites his lip. 

“Hi.”

Nick wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so badly his chest aches with it. He laughs a little at himself because this is what he wants and he knows it’s what Harry wants, but it’s still so big, so huge, and Nick is bricking it. 

“So I was thinking,” Nick says, voice rumbling and thick. 

Harry grins. “Uh oh,” he teases.

Nick kicks Harry’s foot a little but steps even closer when he does. They’re completely touching right now, legs pressed together and still holding hands. If anyone were to see them there would be no question that Harry and Nick are _Harry and Nick_. There could be someone watching them right now; the old man or the couple with the pram or the uni students. Anyone could be taking a picture or calling the paps or anything - anything at all - and Nick realizes with a clarity that he was hoping for but barely expecting that he doesn’t mind at all. 

_Let them see_ , he thinks to himself. _Let everyone see_.

“I was thinking that maybe...” Nick says and trails off. Harry tilts his head and watches him, but he’s still biting his lip and looking unsure. Harry looks like this is something he wants and has hoped for, but is waiting for Nick to take it back or say he doesn’t mean it. 

Nick doesn’t want Harry to look at him that way ever again. 

He leans down and kisses Harry, right there in the middle of the park, on a bright and sunny Sunday morning. Harry makes a surprised sound but then presses into him, pulling Nick in tighter and laughing almost nervously against against his lips. 

They don’t kiss for long, and when Harry pulls back his face is flushed a bright red. Nick’s heart is pounding and he’s shaking but not from nerves this time. He’s shaking because he’s happy. He feels like he can do anything, that he’s done it _all_. He’s got Harry and Harry wants to be his and now everyone can know it. Everyone _will_ know it and that’s...that’s _everything_.

“So. Um.” Harry touches his mouth before dropping his hand and laughing nervously. He looks around then and Nick does too. It doesn’t seem like anyone has noticed them, but Nick doesn’t much mind. He plans on kissing Harry wherever they are from now on. Someone will notice sooner or later and that’s more than fine with Nick. 

“What was it that you were maybe thinking?” Harry asks. “Was that just it?”

Nick nods and reaches down to take Harry’s hand again. Pig comes running back over to them with a stick, and yips at Nick’s feet happily. Everything is still one hundred percent normal, even after kissing Harry right here in the park. Even while he’s still stood here holding Harry’s hand, and it will still be normal when Nick takes Harry and walks with him for the rest of the morning, and then when they go food shopping, and then when they go home to Nick’s and watch the telly and eat dinner and fall asleep together like they do nearly every night. 

“Yeah,” Nick says. His voice it steady now because he’s got nothing to be scared about. Not anymore. “I was thinking that maybe it’s okay to kiss you when I feel like it.” He watches Harry because there’s still time for Harry to change his mind, nothing’s been set in stone yet. 

“That alright with you?” Nick asks. 

Harry blinks at him, then beams and takes Nick’s face in his hands, pulling him in for a fast, deep kiss. “Yes,” Harry says, breath puffing out happily. “Fuck yes.”

“All right then,” Nick says. He whistles for Pig who’s run off with her stick and holds his other hand out for Harry to take. Harry does, twining their fingers together and pulling both their hands up to kiss Nick’s knuckles before letting them drop back down. 

“Let’s do this,” he says to Harry. Harry laughs a little, and smiles, and nods. 

“Yeah, all right,” Harry says. “Can’t wait.”

 

-END-


End file.
